Page 46 of Terror at the Gates

Zahariev

“I’m sorry to bother you, Mr. Zareth,” Colette D’Arsay said. “But I’m worried about Lilith. She isn’t home yet, and she isn’t answering her phone.”

Unease crept over me, an unsettling shadow. The feeling of fear was like a foreign object in my body. I wanted to expel it but knew there was only one way to do so.

“I’ll find her,” I said. My throat was tight as I made the promise and hung up.

Chapter Six

When I woke, it was like rising from a dark pool. I felt myself surface and my body awaken, aware that I was on a bed and my clothes were damp. My head hurt. It felt like my brain was throbbing, growing too large to fit in my skull. It took me a moment to remember what had happened. I had to parse through my memories, which were overshadowed by my strange, desert dream.

It was a continuation of the last one and still so real. My tongue was gritty, my lips dry. I tried to swallow, but there was no moisture in my mouth.

I needed something to drink.

I opened my eyes to a tall, shadowed ceiling. I knew by the light fixture at the center—a rattan globe—that I was in Gabriel and Esther’s room. I lifted my head a little and glimpsed Zahariev standing in the corner. One arm was crossed over his chest, the other raised as he mindlessly brushed his thumb across his lips.

I whispered his name, and his eyes lifted to mine, but he didn’t come to me. He dropped his arms and opened thedoor, speaking to someone. A second later, he stepped aside, allowing an older man to enter.

I recognized him immediately. His name was Luke Morganstern, but everyone called him Dr. Mor. He was an older man with short salt-and-pepper hair and a black mustache. The skin below his jawline sagged, which made him look like he was always frowning, except that he was actually always cheerful.

I’d known about him for a long time, but I’d only met him when I moved to Nineveh. He worked for Zahariev and treated those in his circle. When I was seventeen, I asked for birth control. Well, I’d had to ask him through Zahariev, which was embarrassing, but I got it nevertheless. I wasn’t the only woman in Hiram who used his services—or man for that matter.

The church and the five families liked to tell women what they could do with their bodies, but secretly, they’d do anything to suppress a scandal, including paying for abortions under the table.

“Miss Leviathan,” Dr. Mor said as he approached. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I hit my head,” I said, sitting up slowly. I threw my legs over the edge of the bed, but a wave of dizziness kept me seated. I closed my eyes, trying to find my equilibrium, but even then, I felt like they were swimming in my head. The feeling moved into my gut, turning my stomach.

“Careful,” said Dr. Mor. “Any dizziness?”

“A bit,” I said, my eyes still closed.

I let out a long breath.

“Nausea?”

I nodded. I didn’t want to speak, fearing I really would vomit. After a few seconds, though, the feeling passed. I openedmy eyes as Dr. Mor set his bag down on the bedside table and opened it. He pulled out a pair of powder-blue gloves.

“What happened?” he asked.

I glanced at Zahariev, who was still present in the room. I knew he lingered for this reason.

“I was pulled out of a car by my ankle,” I said. “I hit the pavement.”

“Who pulled you out of the car?” asked Zahariev. There was a grittiness to his voice that made me think he was angry.

I looked at him and regretted it instantly as a sharp pain shot from the back of my skull and into my eyes.

“Fuck,” I muttered, reaching to touch the sorest part of my head, but Dr. Mor stopped me.

“Try not to touch it. I’ll look in a second. How about we wait until you’ve had some rest before we inundate you with questions?” he suggested, glaring at Zahariev over his glasses.

“It’s fine,” I said between my teeth. “I shouldn’t have moved.” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It was Burke,” I said. “He jerked me once, and I was out of the car. It was so fast, I couldn’t do anything except land.”

As I spoke, Dr. Mor shone a light in my eyes and then felt around the back of my head. The spot where I had hit the pavement was tender, and I inhaled through my teeth.

“No open wound, just a decent knot,” he said. “He gave you a nice concussion.”

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